Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 11 — page 21: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

aoe ee - SS —— eee tendant. I was eating my dinner with little appetite, and had asked for some wine. Pedro went to the buf- fet behind him, to give me what I required. Acci- dentally I lifted up my head, and there being a large pier-glass opposite to me, I saw the fi of my valet, and that he was pouring a powder in the flagon of wine which he was about to present to me, I recollected the hat being found at the nunnery, and also the stiletto in the body of the young man. “Like lightning it occurred to me that I had been fostering the viper who had assisted to destroy me. He brought me the flagon. I rose, locked the door, and drawing my sword, I addressed him: *** Villain! I know thee; down on your knees, for your life is forfeited.’ “He turned pale, trembled, and sunk upon his knees, ** * Now, then,’ continued I, ‘you have but one chance either drink off this flagon of wine, or I pass my sword through your body.’ **He hesitated, andI put the point to his breast— even peeroes the flesh a quarter of an inch. “** Drink,’ cried I; ‘is it so very unjust an order to tell you to drink old wine? Drink,’ continued I, ‘or my sword does its py jl “He d and would then have quitted the room. ‘No, no,’ said I, ‘ you remain here, and the wine must have its effect. I have wronged youl will make amends to you—but I am suspicious.’ | “In about a quarter of an hour, during which time I | up and down the room with my sword drawn, | my servant fell down, and cried in mercy to let him | have a priest. I sent for my own confessor, and he then | acknowledged that he was an agent of my mother and _ Father tio, and had been the means of making it | appear that I was the committer of all the crimes and | murders which had been perpetrated by them, with a_ view to my destruction. strong emetic having been | tered to him, he partially revived, and was | taken to Palermo, where he gave his evidence before he expired. en this was made nowt the king revoked his | sentence, apologized to me, and I found that once more | I was visited and courted by everybody. My mother | was ordered to be shut up in aconvent, where she died, | I trust, in grace; and Father Ignatio fled to Italy, and I | have been informed is since dead. PS AF phe | thus rid myself of my principal enemies, I | considered myself safe. I married the lady whom you | have just seen, and before my eldest son was born, Don | Silvio, for such was the name given to my asserted legiti- | mate brother, came of age, and demanded his succes- sion. Had he asked me for a proper support, as my uterine brother, I should not have refused; but that the son of Friar Ignatio, who had so often attempted | me ite, should, in case of my decease, succeed to the - title and estates, was not to be borne, A lawsuit was operon sae commenced, which lasted four or five y during which Don Silvio married, and had a son, that young man whom you heard me address by the same name; but after much res. geese it was decided that my father’s confession and will had proved his illegitimacy, and the suit wasin my favor. From that time to this, there has been a constant enmity. Don Silvio refused all my eters of assistance, and followed | me with a pertinacity which often endangered my life. | At last he fell by the hands of his own agents, who | mistook him forme. Don Silvio died without lea | ree tiple s for his family; his widow I pensioned, | and his son I have had carefully brought up, and have indeed treated most liberally, but he appears to have imbibed the spirit of his father, and no kindness been able to imbue him wi-h gratitude. ‘““He had lately been placed by me in the army, where he found out my two sons, and quarrelled with | them both upon slight pretenses; but, in both instances, | he was wounded and carried off the field. | _. “My two sons have been staying with me these last two months, and did not leave till crag aan This | m Don Silvio, accompanied by Don Scipio, came | to the house, and after accusing me of being the mur- derer of both their parents, drew their rapiers to assas- sinate me. My wifeand child, hearing the noise, came down to my assistance—you know the rest.”’ CHAPTER XXII. IN WHICH OUR HERO IS BROUGHT UP ALL STANDING UNDER A PRESS OF SAIL. Ovr limits will not permit us to relate all that passed during our hero’s stay of a fortnight at Don Rebiera’s. | He and Gascoigne were treated as if they were his own | sons, and the kindness of the female part of the family was equally remarkable, es, naturally perhaps, b+ soli a preference or pat ty for Jack, to which Gascoigne willingly submitted, as he felt that our hero | had a prior and syongee claim thal they remained a eeling of attachment was cre- ated between es and the aysinng Berry which, if not love, was something very near akin to it; but the fact was, that they were both too much too young to think of rearriage; laughed an home in time for their played together, the inner. § d Jack thought that the young lady was the pretti- pe and kindest girl that he had ever met with. leave, furnished with letters of recommendation to many of the first moe 3 Palermo, and mounted on two fine mules with bell bridles. The old Donna kissed them both—the Don showered down his blessings and good wishes, and Donna Agnes’ lips trembled as she ) them adieu; and, as soon as they were gone, she | introduced them went up to her chamber and wept, Jack also was very | them, from their being in grave, and his o— moistened at the thoughts of leav- es. Ne ygetber. e first quarter of an hour our two midshipmen fol- | tnvitation, owed their guide in silence. Jack wished to be left to nis own thoughts, and Gascoigne ved it, “Well, ,” said Gascoigne at last, “if I had been in your place, constantly in company of and loved b chat charming girl, I could never have torn myse ” owed ve pag Ned!” replied Jack; ‘‘ what makes tha J Because I am sure it was the case; your presence. Why, if you were out of the room, she never spoke a wo 4 sat there as melancholy as a sick ome ren Be moment you came in , she eens out as glorious as the sun, and was all life and -“T thought e were always melancholy when they wc 0 in love,” Meplied Jack. -——-~o— and during the time | Don th and, although they walked and talked and | were always at the young lady | his money with good humor, and was a very handsome nee she preferred our hero, even to her brothers, | t the end of the fortnight our two midshipmen took their ng ther of them were aware, until the | cious and condescending. nour cf parting, how much they had wound themselves | urbanity that he ‘When those that they love are out of their pres- ence.”’ ‘“ Well, then, I am out of her presence, and I feel very melancholy, so I suppose, by our argument, I am in love. Cana man be in love without knowing it?” oe) really cannot say, Jack; I never was in love my- self, but I’ve seen many others spooney. My time will come, I suppose, by-and-by. They say, that for every man made, there is a woman also made to fit him, if he could only find her. Now, it’s my opinion that you have Sug yours—Ill lay my life she’s crying at this moment.” “Do you really think so, Ned? let’s go back—poor little Agnes—let’s go back; I feel I do love her, and I'll tell her so.”’ ** Pooh, nonsense! it’s too late now; you should have er py that before, when you walked with her in the arden,”’ “But I did not know it, Ned. However, as you say, it would be foolish to turn back, so I'll write to her from Palermo.” ee The captain of the frigate inquired of Jack what hed brought him out here, and Jack, whose prudence was departing, told him he came in his Majesty's ship Harpy. Gascoigne gave Jack a nudge, bnt it was of no use, for as the wine got into Jack’s brain, so did his no- tions of equality. : ‘“Oh! Wilson gave you a passage; he’s an old friend of mine.”’ ‘““So he is of ours,”’ replied Jack; “he’s a deviltsh good sort of a fellow, Wilson.” ‘‘But where have you been since you came out?”’ in- quired Captain Tartar. Here an “th yee ensued upon love, which we shall | not trouble the reader with, as it was not very - found, both sides knowing very little on the patho. It did, however, end with our hero being convinced that he was desperately in love, and he talked about giving up the service as soon as he arrived at Malta. It is astonishing what sacrifices midshipmen will make for the objects of their adoration. It was not until late in the evening that our adven- turers arrived at Palermo. As soon as they were lodged at the hotel, Gascoigne sat down and wrote a letter in their joint names to Don Rebiera, returning him many thanks for his great kindness, informing him of their safe arrival, and trusting that they shoul soon meet again; and Jack took up his pen, and indited a let- tide nor time, nor water, nor air, nor heaven, nor earth, nor the first lieutenant, nor his father, nor ab- sence, nor death itself, should prevent him from com- ing back and marrying her, the first convenient oppor- tunity, begging her refuse a thousand offers, as come b he would, although there was no saying when. It was a perfect love-letter, that is to say, it eare the Harpy,” replied Jack; “‘to be sure, I belong er,”” “You belong to her! In what capacity, may I ask?’ inquired Captain Tartar in a much less respectful and confidential tone. ‘** Midshipman,” replied Jack; “‘ so is Mr. Gascoigne.” ““Umph! You are on leave then?” ‘No, indeed,” replied Jack; ‘“‘T’ll tell you how it is, dear fellow.” ‘Excuse me for one moment,” replied Captain Tar- tar, rising = ‘*T must give some directions to my ser- vant which f forgot.” Captain Tartar hailed his coxswain out of the win- dow, gave orders just outside of the door, and then re- turned to the table. In the meantime Gascoigne, who expected a breeze, had been cautioning Jack in a low tone, at intervals, when Captaiu Tartar’s back was turned; but it was useless; the extra quantity of wine had got into Jack’s head, and he cared nothing for Gascoigne’s remonstrance. When the captain resumed his seat at the table, Jack gave him the true narrative of all that had passed, to which his guest ae the greatest attention. Jack wound up his confidence by m saying that in a week or so he should go back to Don ter in Spanish to Agnes, in which he swore that neither | was the essence of nonsense; but that made it perfect, | for the greater the love the greater the folly. These letters were consigned to the man who was sent as their guide, and also had to return with the mules. He was liberally rewarded; and as Jack told him to be very careful of his letter, the Italian naturally concluded that it was to be delivered clandestinely, and he delivered it accordingly, at a time when Agnes was walking in the garden thinking of our hero. Nothing was more opportune than the arrival of the letter; Agnes ran to the pavilion, read it over twenty times, kissed it twenty times, and hid it in her bosom; sat for a few minutes in deep and placid thought, took the letter out of its receptacle, and read it over and over again. It was very bad Spanish and very absurd, but she thought it delightful, poetical, classical, sentiment- al, argumentative, convincing, incontrovertible, imag- inative, and even grammatical; for if it was not good Rebiera, and propose for Donna Agnes. ** Ah!’ exclaimed Captain Tartar, drawing his breath with astonishment and compressing his lips. “Tartar, the wine stands with you,” said Jack, “al- low me to help you.” Captain Tartar threw himself back in his chair, and let all the wind out of his chest with a sort of whistle, as if he could hardly contain himself. ‘*Have you had wine enough?” said Jack, very po- litely: “if so, we will go to the marquesa’s.”’ ; | | Spanish, there was no Spanish half so good. Alas! | Agnes was indeed unsophisticated, to be in such ecstasies with a midshipman's love-letter. Once more she hastened to her room to weep, but it was from ex- cess of joy and delight. The reader may think Agnes , but he must take into consideration the climate, and that she was not yet fifteen. Our young gentlemen sent for a tailor, and each or- | has | dered a new suit of clothes; they delivered their letters of recommendation, and went to the banker to whom they were addressed by Don Rebiera. ““T shall draw for ten pounds, Jack,” said Gascoigne, ‘‘on the strength of the shipwreck; I shall tell the truth, all except that we forgot to ask for leave, which I shall leave out; and I am sure the story will be worth ten pounds. What shall you draw for, Jack?”’ ‘**T shall draw for two hundred **IT mean to have a good cruise while I can.” ‘“* But will your governor stand that, Easy?” “To be sure he will.” “Then you're right—he is a philosopher—I wish he’d teach mine, for he hates the sight of a bill.” “Then don’t you draw, Ned—I have plenty for both. If every man world you would be able to draw as much as I; and as ou or? upon the principles of equality you shall ve EB de ‘“‘l really shall become a convert to your philosophy, | again, “ _ will permit us to Jack; it does not appear to be so nonsensical as thought it. At all events, it has saved my old ten pounds, which he can ill afford, as a colonel on half- pay.” On their return to the inn, they found Don Philip and to whom Don Rebiera had written, who welcomed them with open arms, ; | | | gasped | ' unds,” replied Jack; | ad his equal share and rights in the | Directly you are on board put them both] } } | | overnor | heavy one; or, as you have taken charge heavy purse of dollars. They were two. very fine young men of eighteen and nineteen, who | were finishing their education in the army. Jack | asked them to dinner, and they and our hero soon be- | came inseparable. e : the conversaziones of all the nobility, and as Jack lost fellow, he was everywhere well received and was made much.of: many ladies made love to him, but Jack was only very polite, because he thought more and more of Agnes every day. Three weeks passed ower like light- and neither Jack nor ae thought of going At last, one fine day H. M. frigate Aurora an- chored in the bay, and Jack and Gascoigne, who were at a party at the Duke of Pentaro’s, met with the cap- tain of the Aurora, who was also invited. The duchess Captain Tartar, who imagining lain clothes, to be young Englishmen of fortune on their travels, was very gra- : ‘oni Jack was so pleased with his > pee Swed th mage nn of his = ny to dinner the next day; Captain Tartar accepted the “im and they parted shaking hands, with many made his acquaint- e, and the dinner id not drink much expressions of pleasure in havi ance. Jack's i, was rather la sumptuous. The S cilian gentlemen wine, but Captain Tartar liked the rest of the sae aay the table to go to a ball given that eveni e uesa Novara, Jack was polite not to sit it out with the captai closed his chair to Jack’s, who, he was afraid, being a ? The captain was amazingly entertaining. Jack told him how happy he should which property pe ery discovered she lived but in| ae affected with the wine, would “let the cat out of took him to’all the theaters, | his bottle, and although | Gascoigne | The coxswain came to the door, touched his hat to the captain, and looked significantly. ‘*And so, sir,’’ cried Captain Tartar, in a voice of thunder, rising from his chair, ‘‘ you’re a d—d runaway midshipman, who, if you belonged to my ship, instead of marrying Donna Agnes, I would marry you to the gunner’s daughter, by G—d; two midshipmen sporting cog clothes in the best society in Palermo, and having he impudence to ask a post-captain to dine with them! To ask me, and address me as ‘ Tartar,’ and ‘my dear fellow!’ you infernal young scamps!” continued Cap- tain Tartar, now boiling with rage ane striking his fist on the table so as to set all the glasses waltzing. “Allow me to observe, sir,”’ said Jack, who was completely sobered by the address, ‘that we do not belong to your ship, and that we are in plain clothes.” **In plain clothes—midshipmen in mufti—yes, you are “ a couple — yo oe ae pe a six. pence in your pocket, passing yourselves off as young men of fortune, and walking off through the window without paying your bill.” . py you mean to call me a swindler, sir?’’ replie? ack, ‘Yes, sir, you—”’ “Then you lie!’ exclaimed our hero, in a rage. “% am a gentleman, sir—I am sorry I cannot pay you the same compliment.” The astonishment and rage of Captain Tartar took away his breath. He tried to speak, but could not—he and gasped, and then sat or almost fell down his chair. At last he recovered himself. ** Matthews— Matthews!” “Sir,” replied the coxswain, who had remained at the door. ‘*The sergeant of marines.” “* Here he is, sir.’ The sergeant entered, and raised the back of hi) hand to his hat. ‘* Bring your marines in—take charge of these two, in irons.” The marines with their bayonets walked in and took possession of our hero and Gascoigne. ‘* Perhaps, sir,’’ replied Jack, who was now cool pay our bill before we go ers, and it is rather a nm on We are no swin ossession of our you will, perhaps, do us the favor to dis- yourself ; and Jack threw on the table a ‘*T have only to observe, Ca tain Tartar, that I wish to be very liberal to the waiters.”’ “Sergeant, let them pay their bill,” said Captain Tartar, in a more subdued tone, taking his hat and sword and walking out of the room. “ By heavens, Easy, what have you done? You will be tried by a court-martial and turned out of the ser- vice.”’ ‘*T hope so,”’ replied Jack; “Iwas a fool to come into it. But he called me a swindler, and I would give the ae answer comeeey. is oe ; t “If you are y, gentlemen,” sai e sergean who had been long a with Captain Tartar to be aware that to be punished by him was no proof of fault having been committed. ‘“T will go and pack up our things, Easy, while you pay the bill,” said Gascoigne. ‘Marine, you had bet- ter come with me.” In less than half an hour our hero and his comrade, instead of finding themselves at the marquesa’s ball, found themselves very comfortably in irons under the half-deck of his Majesty’s frigate Aurora. , We shall leave them, and return to Captain Tartar, who had proceeded to the bali to which he had been invited. On his entering he was accosted by Don Mar- tin and Don Philip, who ry SP what had become of our hero and his friend. Captain Tartar, who was in no yery good humor, replied briskly, “that they were on board his ship in irons,”’ ‘In irons! for what?’’ exclaimed Den Philip. ** Because, sir, they are a couple of young scamps, who have introduced themselves into the best company. themselves off as people of consequence, when persons it | they are ony i tag of midshipmen who have run to see him, at Forest Hill, - to contain six and also that Jack was an only oma tain Tartar was uite rh, wr hen he s0n; ctful when found that ‘he was im such very excellent company. away from t 5 oak Now the Rebieras knew very well that Jack and }is friend were midshipmen; but this did nos Spee ‘oO e as them any reason why they should not be co gentlemen and treated accord “Do you mean to say, signor, OMG Wd Don Philip “that booksreo — =— nate ee ie ee | eee ee ae es =o - -